


Tough Luck

by pondili



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pondili/pseuds/pondili
Summary: You just got hit by a car. You also didn’t get to see the asshole whose car had what some would call an ‘altercation’ with your general torso area, along with your facial area, your lower area, and your hey-I-need-this-area-so-I-can-live area.But what’s done is done, to quote someone from somewhere that was probably England.





	Tough Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Al](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Al).



> GORSH MICKEY I LOVE AL  
> some friends and i dared my good pal al to write a fanfic or story so they created this masterpiece  
> all of this is them, i only proofread it and coded it  
> i love it man...

You just got hit by a car. You also didn’t get to see the asshole whose car had what some would call an ‘altercation’ with your general torso area, along with your facial area, your lower area, and your hey-I-need-this-area-so-I-can-live area.

But what’s done is done, to quote someone from somewhere that was probably England.

You take a quick peek at your hands, and yep, they’re transparent as anything, along with your _heavenly_ attire of a sweatshirt and peach-colored shorts that scream ‘PARTY’ on the back of them. You’re honestly surprised that a car hadn’t hit you sooner and just called it a mercy killing.

But when you take a look around you, the world doesn’t seem to be as... colorful, in a word. Everything is frozen, and it looks like a vampire has sucked the life out of it, or maybe it was sucked down a drain. Metaphors aside, it looks grey. And damp. And frankly, it looks -

FWOOM

Your internal monologue is suddenly interrupted by a sudden explosion of what smells like vape smoke and looks like an acid trip. A furious flapping of arms reveals a man wearing what you can only describe as a suit gone wrong, and you immediately have too many questions and not enough answers.

He’s wearing a suit that has been tie-dyed with all possible colors, with a matching bowler hat. Every pocket he has, and a few that he can’t possibly have, are filled to burst with Polaroid pictures of everything from dead gorillas, smiling shiba inus, and frowning cats, to empty beds, rainy days, and white flowers on a black background. They keep falling to the ground every time he moves, and there always seem to be more that appear when you aren’t looking. His hair consists of brown, jagged spikes that refuse to conform to the societal and physical expectations of his hat, and his face is pale and overdrawn as he frantically searches for something he doesn’t seem to find. Sometimes his moves are fluid, and other times those movements are large, sharp and angular, like the human embodiment of anxiety.

Eventually, he glances at you once, then twice, and finally turns to talk to you, an avalanche of paper smothering the road underneath the both of you.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

You jolt a little, since you haven’t heard anything since you died. You open your mouth, and he fills it with more words.

“Come on, we don’t have all day! Do you believe in destiny or - “

He’s interrupted by the arrival of someone else now. You didn’t see - or hear - her appear, but now that she’s here, you can’t take your eyes off of her.

She wears a gown made of pure midnight. Stars blink in the fabric, and some even seem to hover around her, creating a small halo around her entire being. Every now and again, you even see white streaks shooting across the fabric, winking out almost as soon as they appear. Her hair is perfectly coiled, and is almost as dark and smooth as her skin as she glides over to you. Unlike the man, her movements are always fluid, are always perfect. They seem to carry care and compassion at first, but the longer you look at her, the more unnerving they seem to be. And you’ve been looking at her for a long time.

“Now hold on a minute here,” she says with a Southern drawl as she cuts the man off as he scrunches up his face into a ball of features, “I do believe that _two_ presences are required in this here situation.”

“And _I_ do believe that two presences are already here, Fate.” He spits this out, almost shaking. The pictures falling now are darker and darker in color, as they depict more flowers, more days of darkness, of sorrow.

Fate laughs at that, a deep sound, full of contempt. “Destiny dear, nobody chooses you anymore except for people who have nothing left to believe in. Nobody wants an idea that they can change, because it defeats the whole point of the idea. Fate, on the other hand... well, you can’t beat fate. How can you? It’s an unchangeable, unshakeable idea, a belief everyone can hold onto because it simply can’t be disproved, and boy, do people love things they can’t disprove. Isn’t that right, dear?”

... Oh. Wait, is she talking to you now? You manage to stammer out a “S-Sure...?”

“That’s not fair at all!” Destiny cuts in, strawberry-flavored smoke starting to waft in from under the mountain of images, “You can’t turn your charm up on them! That’s not allowed!”

“Who said there were rules?” Fate retorts, painted lips curling upwards at the edges. “Once they’re here, they’re fair game.”

“Now,” she turns her attention to you once more, smiling like a Cheshire Cat, “You seem like a nice enough person, so I’ll make this decision easy for you, hmm? All you have to do is say ‘I believe in Fate.’ Got that?”

.....

“Nod once for yes, darling.”

You find yourself slowly nodding your head up and down. After all, who can say no to Fate?

“There we go. Now we’re going to say it in three, two, one - “

BOOM

Just for the briefest moment, you see stars blossoming in her eyes, but it’s soon gone as she turns to Destiny and your mind slowly returns to normal. “Ah, for my own sake.”

All of a sudden, from a door you didn’t know existed and will never see, someone walks in. They could be wearing a neatly pressed suit with an immaculate bow tie. They could also have on a long-sleeved evening gown, or a T-shirt and jeans, or exactly what you’re wearing right now. You see all of these and none of them, along with every face you could imagine and none of them. Every feature, skin tone, and hair style flickers across your vision, leaving it a blur.

**”FATE, DESTINY.”** they say with a voice that feels like it travels in one ear and out the other.

“Chance.” Destiny mumbles with a tone that mixes gratitude and hatred.

“Chancey, my darling, my ragtime pal! It’s been too long - “ Chance raises a hand, and the expression on Fate’s face immediately changes.

**_”PLEASE, FATE. I’M HERE FOR BUSINESS, NOT PLEASURE. THE SOUL IS MINE. WHEREVER THEY END UP, OR WHOEVER THEY END UP WITH, IS NOW IN THE HANDS OF RANDOMNESS.”_ **

Both Fate and Destiny groan audibly, and before you realize that you should probably ask what any of this means, Chance snaps their fingers.

And everything is back to normal.


End file.
